


Maintain the Right

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-05
Updated: 1999-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ten year-old Benton is struck by a sea otter and experiences his first sweat.





	Maintain the Right

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Maintain the Right

## Maintain the Right

by Mary

Author's notes: Small spoilers for "Mask"

* * *

Warning: Itsy-bitsy spoilers for "Mask" 

Notes: As I watched Fraser and Eric in the sweat lodge in "Mask," I was struck by the 

underlying current to their short conversation about the first time Eric brought 

Fraser into a sweat lodge. "I was ten." "You were scrawny then." "I still am." 

And then Eric says rather cryptically "You still move fast" and Fraser reacts 

silently with a grave expression that hints he is remembering whatever it is to 

which Eric is alluding. Well, I'm sorry, but that is just too enticing to leave alone! 

As far as I recall, dueSouth never gave us any further details about whatever 

happened way back when. So let me, "ciphers to this great accompt, on your 

imaginary forces work." 

Disclaimer: As I said, dueSouth and Alliance hinted at something like this. So, if I got it 

wrong, it's still their responsibility. 

Drama; Rated R (for one "fuck"); some milder language 

**MAINTAIN THE RIGHT**

By Mary 

He was coming toward me. Again. Just like every day for the past month. Why couldn't he pick on someone up front for a change, instead of coming all the way to the back row where I sat? Or couldn't he at least bully one of the bigger kids? No, of course I didn't want him to hurt anyone. But when you feel your ten year-old life is in danger every time you see a certain kid, you can't help but wish he'd focus his attention on anyone but you just once. My heart pounded in my chest as I pretended not to see him coming. Not that that fooled him for a minute. The routine had been the same since my first day at Tuktoyaktuk Junior High School. 

I'd been schooled at home by my grandmother for most of my life, but occasionally she decided a little organized socialization with kids my age would do me good. The only problem was, most of the kids in my class were older than me. It seems Grandma's advanced curriculum had propelled me beyond the educational level of my peers, so I was placed two grades higher, to Grade Seven. Which is significant when you're a scrawny ten year-old and many of your classmates are pushing thirteen. 

I hadn't seen Eric at all during the lunch break, which was strange as that was normally his favorite time of day to bully me. Since we shared the schoolyard with the Elementary School, adult supervision tended to keep a more vigilant watch on the younger kids than they did on the Junior High students. So it wasn't difficult for Eric to get away with giving me a good roughing- up, sometimes verbally, sometimes physically, often both. His conspicuous absence this afternoon gave me a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he has finally tired of picking on me. 

As usual, I was early getting back to the classroom after lunch. The teacher wasn't even back yet. So I took my seat and began to study, while the other kids slowly trickled into the room. Even without looking up, I was immediately aware of Eric as he entered the classroom. At first I thought the shadows being cast around me were just a trick of my imagination. A hallucination brought on by my premonition of doom. But then I became aware of a strange sound which I couldn't quite place. Like a whirring. A loud, heavy whirring. My curiosity got the better of me, and I had to look up. 

There was Eric. Walking toward me. With a diabolical smile on his face. Waving his arm above his head in a circular motion. Gripping the tail of a dead otter which whirred through the air like a fan blade. Eric let out a yelp as he released the otter and it came soaring at me and struck me just below my right shoulder. The doctor later remarked I was a lucky kid. Another two or three inches higher and it would've taken my head off my shoulders. 

Fuck! No, I didn't say that. But the thought was there. I couldn't actually say anything, because the force of the blow threw me backwards to the floor and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Okay, surely I must be dead, I thought as I laid there, numb and unable to focus my eyes. Time seemed to stop. So, what happens now? Should I try to get up? Should I wait for an angel to come get me? Should I... 

"Benton? Benton Fraser, are you all right?" The angel's voice sounded just like my teacher, Mrs. Beers. "Don't try to move, Benton." Oh, good. Finally, some instructions. Not that I could have moved anyway. "Help is on the way, honey." 

My eyes were starting to focus and I could see that it was my teacher speaking to me. And the rest of the class was gathering around looking at me like I was from Pluto. Everyone but Eric, that is. He was again conspicuously absent. 

"It was Eric, Ma'am. He threw the otter at Ben and ran away." Ah, Trish the Tattler's voice. Normally, I would cringe at the sound of her using my name, as it invariably meant she was trying to get me in trouble. But now, I felt I could kiss her! If only I could move. 

"Yes, dear. Thank you. We'll take care of it," Mrs. Beers answered. She now held my face between her hands. "Can you speak, Benton?" 

I didn't know whether or not I could, but I knew I didn't want to. Not right then. So I said nothing. 

"He's bleeding!" Trish screamed at the top of her tattling little lungs. A sort of panic ensued, as some of the kids drew back in terror at the sight of my blood and others moved in closer for a better look. 

"Wow! Look at that!" one boy exclaimed excitedly as he pulled my shirt away from my skin to investigate. "The skin's all torn away!" 

I looked down to see the pool of blood forming on my chest and running down to the floor. The next thing I knew I was woken up by a sharp, stinging sensation burning my chest. Well, at least I was feeling something again. I figured that must be a good sign. I was lying on a bed in the school clinic and a nurse was dabbing at my wound with an antiseptic-soaked cloth, and each touch felt like someone was burning the skin from my body with a blow torch. 

"Don't look at it, Benton," Mrs. Beers advised. I hadn't noticed she was standing beside me, holding my hand and wiping my brow with a cool, wet towel. "Let the nurse fix you up." 

I nodded and looked up at the ceiling, holding back the cries of pain that were begging to escape my lips. 

"You're a brave boy," Mrs. Beers said as she answered my tightening grip on her hand with a tighter one of her own. 

"I am?" I winced at another sting of antiseptic. 

"Very brave. Anyone else with a wound like that would be crying in pain." 

"Is it real bad, Ma'am?" 

"No, not real bad. Once it's cleaned up, you probably won't even notice it," she lied mercifully. 

"Looks like you'll need a few stitches, young man," the nurse said. 

"Stitches?" I asked, apprehensively. 

"Just a few. Won't take but a minute," she said as she prepared the needle and thread. 

I looked at Mrs. Beers, who smiled and leaned in close to me. 

"I won't think any less of you if you need to cry, Benton," she whispered. 

"I don't need to, Ma'am. My dad says a man never cries." 

"What, never?" 

"Uh, huh." 

"Your dad must be very brave, just like you." 

"Yes, he is. He's a Mountie." 

* * *

That night, a policeman came to the house to take my statement regarding the incident. I didn't want to tell him anything. It was my experience that bullies didn't take kindly to being ratted out. But Grandma insisted that I tell him everything. She said it was our duty to make sure that justice was done; otherwise, Eric would just keep on bullying me and others. 

"You're not gonna arrest him, are you?" I asked the officer after giving him my story. 

"You don't want me to? I would've thought you'd be happy to have him behind bars. You wouldn't have to worry about him hurting you any more." 

"I would when he got out of jail. He'd be really mad at me then, Sir." 

"Is he mad at you? Is that why he hit you?" 

"No, Sir." 

"Why did he hit you?" 

"I don't know, Sir. Are you gonna arrest him?" I quickly changed the subject. 

"I'm going to have a talk with him and his parents." 

"Is that all? You promise you won't arrest him?" 

"Ben, it's late. I think you'd better go to bed now. You have school in the morning. Oh, pardon me, officer. If you are finished with him, that is," Grandma interrupted us. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I believe I have all the information I need for the time being." He got up and offered a handshake to Grandma, who obliged. "Goodnight, Mrs. Fraser. Thank you for your cooperation." 

"Of course, Officer. It's our duty." 

"And goodnight, Benton. You watch out for flying sea otters now, ya hear?" he joked insensitively. 

"Goodnight, Sir," I answered, blushing in anger and embarrassment. 

"Off to bed, Ben," Grandma said after he'd left. "I'll be right in to say goodnight." 

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow, Grandma? Mrs. Beers said I should rest." 

Grandma sat down next to me on the sofa and put her arm around me gently, careful not to touch my wound. "Are you afraid to go to school, Ben?" 

"No, Ma'am." This wasn't really a lie; it was more like denial. 

"Because I'm sure Mrs. Beers will ensure that you are safe." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"You know, when a rider falls off his horse, the most important thing is for him to get right back on. Do you know why?" 

"So he's not too scared to ever ride again, Ma'am." 

"That's right." 

"I'm not scared, Grandma. I promise." 

"Of course you're not." 

The truth was I was terrified, but I knew Grandma would have none of that. So I kissed her goodnight and went to bed. Once the light was out, I let out the tears I had been denying all day until I eventually fell to a peaceful sleep. 

* * *

"You've got balls, for a scrawny little kid, Mountie-boy." 

Oh dear! My eyes searched the classroom the next morning, but Mrs. Beers had apparently not arrived yet. Well, at least Eric wasn't wielding any otters today. "So do you," I answered, looking him in the eye. 

Eric laughed, but I don't think he was pleased. "You got a fresh mouth on you, too. Another crack like that, and I just might have to give you a good licking." 

"You did that yesterday. I had to have stitches." 

"Guess that'll teach you not to get in the way when a man is swinging an otter. You're not as smart as you think, are ya?" 

"Guess not." I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't go away. 

"Maybe you should go back to your kiddie class till you learn the rules." 

"What rules?" 

"The rules of survival, Mountie-boy." 

"I thought I was here to learn math and science and reading." 

"Oh, there's that fresh mouth again. Looks like you need another lesson in respect." 

"No, I don't think so." 

"Tell me, did those stitches of yours hurt, Mountie-boy?" 

"No," I lied. 

"Well, then how about this then," he said as he moved closer and sat on my desk facing me. "How 'bout my fist taking a good close look at them?" 

"That would hurt." 

"Eric! Get away from Benton this instant!" 

Oh, thank God! Mrs. Beers' timing couldn't have been better. 

"I'm just having a little chat with my good friend, Ma'am," Eric answered sarcastically. 

"Eric, you are to report to the office immediately. The Principal is expecting you." 

Eric looked at Mrs. Beers, defiantly refusing to move from my desk. 

"I'm not the one who needs a lesson in respect," I whispered. My courage was significantly boosted now that there was an adult authority present. 

"You're gonna answer for that one, Mountie-boy," he threatened back. 

"Or, if you prefer, I will escort you there personally," Mrs. Beers said as she started to make her way to the back of the room. 

"I don't need an escort, Ma'am," Eric answered as he stood up. We looked at each other and I was sure I saw his eyes say "You're a dead man." When Mrs. Beers pulled him away from me, he brushed her off and left the room, yelling back "Later, Mountie-boy." 

"What are you doing here, Benton?" Mrs. Beers leaned down to me to ask. 

"Getting back on the horse, Ma'am," I whispered back to her. 

She smiled and took my hand. "Come. I want you to take a seat up front." 

"I'm okay here, Ma'am, really." 

"I don't want an argument. I want you to do as I tell you," she ordered, pulling me up from my seat. 

"Yes, Ma'am." And all eyes were on me as I took my new seat. But I knew it wouldn't make a bit of difference. Except perhaps to make me more of an outcast. 

* * *

Grandma had promised to meet me to walk me home, but I didn't see her when school let out. Since Eric hadn't come back to class after being sent to the office, I gambled that he wasn't around and I started home without Grandma. 

"Mountie-boy!" I heard as I entered the woods on my way home. Eric stepped out from behind a tree and stood before me. Oh, why hadn't I waited for Grandma? I wanted to run away, but... 

"Aren't you gonna run, Mountie-boy?" 

"No. Why should I?" 

"Because I'm gonna beat your little Mountie-boy ass, that's why." 

I swallowed hard as he moved closer to me. "Why do you call me that?" I asked, trying to stall the inevitable. 

"Cuz that's what you are, Mountie-boy." 

"I'm not a Mountie," I said, inching back as Eric advanced toward me. 

"Your father's a Mountie and you're his boy. That makes you Mountie-boy." 

"Oh, I see." I backed into a tree, and Eric advanced until we were nose to nose. Well, nose to chin, maybe. 

"No one here but you and me. Now we can get on with business." He grabbed the front of my shirt, causing it to tighten against yesterday's still-tender wound, and I winced in pain. "What's the matter, Mountie-boy? Does your boo-boo hurt?" 

"No," I squeaked back through clenched teeth. If there was one thing my dad had taught me during our rare moments together, it was that a man never cries and he never gives in to pain or fear. I'm sure Eric knew very well that he was inflicting excruciating pain on me, but I was not about to admit it to him. Suddenly, Eric let me go and took a couple steps back. 

"How'd a scrawny kid like you get to be so tough?" 

"Tough?" I asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, stupidly tough, I mean. I could beat the shit out of you with one hand, of course. But you'd stand there and take it without a peep. That's pretty stupid in my book. But I gotta admit, you got balls." 

"Why do you want to beat the shit out of me?" I thought I should at least know why I was about to die. 

"Look at you. Your scrawny Mountie-boy ass is just screaming for a good beating." 

"It is? I don't hear it." 

"I guess you just rub me the wrong way, you know. There's something about you that pisses me off." 

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to..." 

"You see! Now that's just it. You're apologizing, and you don't even know what you're apologizing for! What kind of bullshit is that? That's just the kind of thing that makes me want to break you in two." 

"Murder is against the law. If you kill me, they'll put you in prison." 

Eric laughed loudly. "You might not be a Mountie yet, but you sure act like one. Turning me in to the cops. Getting me suspended from school..." 

"I didn't..." 

"...And that smart-ass remark in class about teaching me respect. You really think you're up to that, Mountie-boy?" 

"I didn't say I could teach you respect. What I said was..." I stopped, unsure as to whether I should finish my sentence. 

"What did you say?" 

"I said...I said somebody should." We stared at each other in silence for a moment. 

"You really are stupid, aren't you, Mountie-boy?" 

"I don't see how it matters what I say if you're gonna kill me anyway." 

"I never said anything about killing you. I said I was gonna beat your ass. Of course, if you keep giving me lip, I might change my mind." 

"I see. Do you think we could get it over with, then. My grandmother will be coming along any minute..." 

"Your grandmother?" 

"She's coming to walk me home." 

"You're kidding!" 

"No." 

"Then why didn't you wait for her at the schoolyard with all the other little babies?" 

"Because I'm stupid, I guess." 

Eric laughed again. "You're a funny kid, Mountie-boy!" He continued to laugh loudly. "You really crack me up! You know, maybe I don't have to beat your ass, after all." 

"You don't?" 

"No, I got a better idea." 

Oh dear! A better idea. Better than a flying otter? "What are you gonna do to me?" 

"Oh, no, no. It's not what I'm gonna do. It's what you're gonna do." 

"Me?" 

"Meet me at the schoolyard tonight after dark." 

"I can't. I'm not allowed. I gotta study." 

"Look, it's your choice. Either you meet me tonight or I beat the shit out of you now. What's it gonna be?" 

I hung my head and agreed softly, "Okay. I'll be there." 

Just at that moment, Grandma came upon us. "Ben, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to wait for me at the school!" she scolded me before realizing I wasn't alone. "Oh, hello, young man. Are you one of Ben's classmates?" 

"Um, yes, Ma'am." 

"Ben, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" 

"Oh, um, yes, Grandma. This is...um...this is...er...this is Eric," I whispered when I finally got around to spitting out the name. 

"Eric? The boy who threw the otter at you yesterday?" 

I glanced at Eric who was obviously not at all happy about being identified as the notorious bully. I hoped I hadn't just re-signed my death warrant. "Um, yes, but..." 

"Well, young man, have you seen what you did to my grandson? That was a brutal attack to make, especially on a boy so much younger and smaller than yourself! I can't imagine what your parents must think. If you were mine, I'd tan your hide but good!" 

"Grandma, it's okay, it's okay. He was just going to apologize to me." I looked at Eric, who quickly turned his gaze to me. At first he appeared angry, but then he gave me a conspiratorial smile and turned to my grandmother. 

"Yes, Ma'am, that's true. I was." 

"Well, then, go on. Let's hear it." 

"Yes, Ma'am." Eric came and stood by me and we looked each other in the eye. "I apologize Mountie...um, Fraser...for hitting you with the otter. It was a cruel thing to do, and I'm sorry." You know, he almost sounded like he meant it. 

"It's okay. I forgive you. It doesn't hurt that much any more." I wasn't trying to convince him as much as I was trying to convince myself. 

Eric smirked and leaned in and whispered confidentially into my ear "You're not as stupid as you seem, Mountie-boy." 

"Fraser," I whispered back, correcting him with a smile. 

"Right, Fraser." 

* * *

"What is it?" I asked after Eric led me to a small tent-like structure in the woods later that night. 

"It's a sweat lodge. It's used for healing and for spiritual purification." 

"Oh. And this is what you wanted me to do?" 

"Not exactly. You'll see. Get undressed and come in. Then it'll all make sense." 

"Undressed?" I was feeling vulnerable enough already! 

"It's very warm in there. You'll need to strip to your shorts." 

I looked at him uncertainly. This was a little beyond the realm of my experience. And I didn't really feel I needed spiritual purification, whatever that meant. 

"It's perfectly safe, Fraser. Follow me." He undressed quickly then crawled inside. Seconds later he peeked his head out and threw me a towel. "Here. You can wrap this around you. Don't take too long. It's hot in here." And he disappeared inside once more. 

I took a quick look around, then shrugged, undressed, wrapped the towel around my waist and crawled inside the tent. I could barely see Eric through the steam in the dim lantern light that barely illuminated the hut. Eric sat cross-legged beside a pile of rocks, and as he poured water over them they sizzled and even more steam filled the air. I sat across from Eric and crossed my legs in imitation. 

"How long does this spiritual purification take?" I asked. 

"Shhh," Eric responded with closed eyes. "Relax, close your eyes, and breathe." 

I obeyed, but not out of fear this time. This was not the Eric I had known. This was not the schoolyard bully. This was, indeed, a man communing with his spiritual nature. I was in awe as I sat and watched this ritual. 

I'm not sure if it was the steamy heat or the odd sensation I was having of becoming one with this man in his private mystical world -- or maybe a bit of both acting upon my weakened, blood-deprived scrawny body -- but minutes later everything was going black and my head was spinning. "Um, Eric," I whispered barely audible. "I don't feel too good." Almost immediately, I felt Eric's hand push my head down to my lap. He then poured water over my neck and massaged it with his other hand. 

"How's that, kid? Feel any better?" 

"A little. I think I might throw up." 

"Can you make it outside?" he asked as he poured another cupful of water down my neck. 

"I can try." 

"Okay. Don't get up. Keep your head down and crawl out. I'll join you in a second. I'm almost done here." 

I didn't respond because I feared if I opened my mouth I would've been sick. I began to slowly crawl out of the hut. 

"Breathe steadily, Fraser; don't hyperventilate. You'll be fine once you get some fresh air." 

I nodded ever-so-slightly and took myself out into the crisp, night air and sat against a tree, taking steady, deep breaths. I didn't give a thought to the fact that it was a chilly autumn night and I was sitting there in nothing but my undershorts. 

Eric emerged from the sweat lodge a few minutes later and brought me a cup of water. "Here, drink this." 

I took it and began to sip. 

"Are you all right now?" 

"Much better. Thanks." 

"Good." He went over to his pile of clothes and got dressed. I was struck by the calm manner he had shown during my little crisis, and I found it very reassuring. 

"Sorry if I ruined your purification," I said to him as he grabbed my clothes and brought them over to me. 

"You didn't." He dropped the clothes into my lap. "Put these on, dummy! It's freezing out here." 

"Thanks." 

"What would Grandma Mountie say if she were to see you like that, Mountie-boy?" 

I looked at him with a start, afraid the old Eric was resurfacing. But when I saw his friendly smile, I knew I was okay. "She'd beat my scrawny little butt," I answered with a grin. 

"Well, then don't just sit there on that scrawny little butt, turning into an icicle. We got work to do." 

"Work?" I asked as I dressed myself. "I should really be going home before my grandmother does discover I'm missing..." 

"Hey, we had a deal, Fraser!" 

"I know, but..." 

"Are you a man who honors his word?" 

This was the first time Eric had referred to me as a man, so I was not about to disappoint him. "Yes. Yes, I am." 

"Good, 'cause I'm not interested in dealing with any liars or cheats or weasels. You're not any of those things, are you?" 

"No." 

"I didn't think so. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think I could trust you." 

"Why did you bring me here, Eric?" I was beginning to wonder what I'd gotten myself in for. 

Eric sat against the tree where I had been sitting. "Come sit down. I'm going to tell you about my visions in the sweat lodge." 

"Your visions?" 

"Quickly, kid! If you want to get home to Grandma." 

I sat on the ground across from Eric and gave him my full attention. 

* * *

I slept very fitfully that night as I laid in bed with Eric's words echoing again and again in my head. There didn't seem to be any way out of this quandary. I had agreed to perform some service for Eric and he had agreed, in exchange, not to beat me up. Granted, his neglecting to tell me upfront the nature of this favor he was requesting may have been slightly underhanded. But that didn't alter the fact that I had agreed to it blindly, desperate to avoid any additional torture at his hands. But was it worth it? I wondered. 

Sneaking out of the house after dark to meet Eric and sit around in the woods in my underwear was probably the greatest sin I was ready to commit at that point in my life. It satisfied my pre-pubescent rebellious yearnings to successfully pull off such a transgression right under Grandma's nose. But theft was another thing altogether. 

I crept into Grandma and Grandpa's bedroom and stood by the bed, looking at Grandma as she slept. I desperately needed some advice, but I was loathe to disturb her sleep without an excuse that she might find reasonable. I certainly couldn't tell her what was bothering me. And then it hit me. The perfect solution. 

"Grandma," I whispered as I lightly tapped her arm. "Grandma, it's me, Ben." 

Grandma stirred, then opened her eyes. When she realized I was standing there, she quickly hopped up and sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in hers. 

"What's the matter, Ben? Did you have a nightmare?" 

"No, Grandma. I can't sleep. It hurts too much," I said looking down at my chest. 

"Oh, dear. I hope it hasn't become infected." Grandma got out of bed and stepped into her slippers. "Let's go take a look, honey," she said as she led me into the bathroom. 

The truth was the pain had miraculously subsided since my session at the sweat lodge. But Grandma didn't need to know that just yet. I slipped in a few counterfeit winces as I watched her remove the dressing and inspect the wound. 

"It doesn't appear to be infected. In fact, it actually looks quite a bit better than it did this afternoon." 

"Really?" I acted surprised as I peered down at it. 

"It hurts a lot, honey?" She sounded somewhat suspicious, which made me feel a little guilty. 

"Maybe not as much as I thought, Grandma." 

"Well, I'll clean it up for you and put on a fresh dressing, and I bet by morning it'll feel a hundred times better. Okay?" she asked as she brushed my hair away from my face. 

I nodded and smiled at her. While she saw to the wound, I worked up the courage to broach the true purpose for my ruse. "Grandma?" 

"Yes, dear?" she asked as if she'd been expecting this. 

"What do you do if you promise somebody you'll do something, but then you don't know if you should do it?" 

"Well, Ben, once you make someone a promise you should honor that promise if at all possible. Otherwise, your word will be worth nothing." 

"But what if someone else will be mad at you if you do keep your promise?" 

Grandma gave me a searching look, apparently very curious to know what was on my mind. "You can't always please everyone. Sometimes all you can do is choose the lesser of two evils, so to speak." She paused and seemed to be waiting for me to say more, but I was silent. "Did you make such a promise to someone?" 

"Sort of." 

"And you now regret it?" 

I shrugged and looked at the floor. 

"If you'll tell me what's bothering you, I might be able to help you, honey." 

"It's nothing, Grandma. I was just wondering." 

"If it's got you wondering at three in the morning when you should be sleeping, it can't be nothing." She didn't say this angrily, but still I was afraid if I let this conversation go on any longer she'd force me to tell her everything. 

"Sorry, Ma'am. I'll go to sleep now. I promise." 

As she saw me into bed with a slap on my behind that hinted she suspected I wasn't being totally truthful with her, she asked once again "Are you sure there isn't something you want to talk about, Ben?" 

"No, Ma'am, nothing." I reckoned lying to her like this was the lesser of two evils, so I forced a yawn and closed my eyes. 

* * *

Eric's explanation of my assignment managed to make it sound almost noble. And I had no doubt that he honestly considered it a noble and necessary act. But, despite that, I couldn't seem to forget the fact that it was, when you came down to it, theft. And in addition to my ingrained belief that stealing was morally wrong, it was, without a doubt, against the law. I knew that if I was ever caught stealing, I'd be in very hot water with the police, my grandparents, and my dad. My dad, the legendary Mountie, who'd cross a continent with nothing but the clothes on his back, a paper bag, and a pointed stick, determined to bring to justice even the lowliest of criminals. A son who was a thief would stand no chance of ever winning the pride and respect of such a man. 

So then why did I choose to do Eric's bidding rather than my dad's? Simple. Eric was here. Dad was not. And there was always the possibility that Dad would never have to know about this. 

It used to be that the Inuit all hunted as a matter of personal survival and culture. But that had changed when hunting became a regulated business. The Inuit who still hunted kept a portion of their catch for their own needs, but the rest was sold for distribution throughout the south. "Our traditional ways are being killed to make way for commerce," Eric had told me with genuine concern that night at the sweat lodge. In addition to the sadness he felt over the loss of his ancestral customs, he feared that the balance of nature would be greatly threatened by this so- called progress. 

When I had joined Eric's class at school, he viewed me, the son of an RCMP Officer, as a symbol of the systematic destruction of native culture. It was his youth and immaturity that drove him to vent his frustration by killing the otter and hurling it at me so brutally. After that incident, his father sent him to the sweat lodge to seek spiritual guidance, and his visions there had shown him that violence wasn't necessarily the best way to mount a protest against perceived injustices. My openness to experience the sweat ritual with Eric had convinced him that I was the man for this job. But this newest scheme of Eric's, while less dangerous to my life than his earlier protests, did pose other worrisome threats to my well-being. 

* * *

The adrenaline was rushing as I neared the completion of my nefarious task the next night. It was surely well past midnight when I lugged one last caribou toward the pile of dead game I had made on the ground. Mr. Franklin's shop was now emptied of the meat that had been destined for southern markets. All that was left for me to do was soak the pile in gasoline and set a match to it. 

"Ben Fraser? Is that you?" 

I froze in my steps at the sound of Mr. Franklin's voice. I said nothing as I tried to avoid the beam of the flashlight by hiding under the caribou. 

Mr. Franklin took the animal from my grasp and dropped it to the ground. He then put a hand on my head and turned me to face him. "What're you doing out here this time of night?" 

"Nothing, Sir," I answered, squinting in the bright light that revealed my face. 

"Well, now that would appear to be a lie, young man. Is that your handiwork?" he asked, nodding toward the pile of dead game as he grabbed the back of my jacket and lifted me until I stood on tiptoe. 

I hung my head and refused to answer. 

"All right. Perhaps you'd be more willing to explain this to your grandparents." Mr. Franklin was a good friend of my grandparents. Otherwise, I imagine he would have threatened me with the police. 

"Do you have to tell them, Sir?" I asked anxiously. I was gonna be in serious trouble for this! But at least Dad wasn't home. 

"No, I could turn you in to the police so they could inform your father. I reckon he would be very interested to hear how his son has taken up thievery." 

"I didn't, Sir." My eyes were filling with tears at the thought of Dad finding out what I had done. Not because I was afraid of him. I could take my punishment when I deserved it. But I loved my dad more than I loved anyone else in the world and I couldn't bear the look of disappointment and shame I would surely see on his face. 

"You didn't take that meat from my shop?" 

"I wasn't stealing it, Sir. I wasn't going to keep it." 

"I don't care what you were going to do with it! You took it. That's stealing. And I would be totally justified in calling the police and having you arrested!" 

"Yes, Sir." I was openly crying now, and Mr. Franklin paused, as if he wasn't sure what to do with me. 

"What were you planning to do with it?" 

I panicked. I knew if I told him what I was going to do he would have me arrested. I squirmed until I managed to free myself from my jacket, which Mr. Franklin was still grasping. I bolted from him and ran as fast as I could into the woods and never slowed down until I reached my rendezvous point with Eric at the sweat lodge. I dove inside only to discover that Eric wasn't there. This was just too much for me to handle at that moment. I'd needed him to calm me down, but instead I was alone and frightened. I broke into a convulsive sob and didn't see or hear Eric enter the hut. 

"You move fast, Mountie-boy." 

I looked up to see Eric seated across from me. I was embarrassed that he had found me sobbing, so I quickly dried my tears and answered "What do you mean?" 

"I saw what happened." 

"You did?" 

"I was watching you, with these," he said as he showed me a pair of binoculars. 

"Why didn't you help me?" I whined. 

"This is your test, Fraser. Not mine." 

"Test? Test? Do you know how much trouble I'm in? Mr. Franklin will tell the police what I did and..." 

"You have to go back," Eric stated matter-of-factly. 

"Are you crazy? I'll be arrested." 

"This whole thing will be useless if nobody knows why it was done. You have to go back and tell them why you did it." 

"You mean tell them why you made me do it!" I yelled angrily. 

"You can tell them that if you want." 

"I can?" Finally, a glimmer of hope. 

"It would mean more coming from you, though." 

"Why?" 

"You're one of them, Mountie-boy." 

"But it would be a lie." 

"Maybe I misjudged you, Fraser. I thought you understood. I thought you would sacrifice for a friend, for justice." 

"A friend?" I asked softly. I hadn't had a real friend since moving to Tuktoyaktuk eight months ago. 

"The decision is yours. I'm not going to beat you if you refuse." 

"But you won't be my friend if I don't do this?" 

"My friend once told me I needed to learn respect when I was hurting him. That wasn't the act of a coward. That man would not turn from a friend in need." 

"They won't believe it was my idea." 

"I don't want them to believe you. I want them to hear you." 

* * *

Mr. Franklin's truck was outside our house when I got home. There were no police cars, however, which I found somewhat encouraging. I entered the house and found Grandma, Grandpa, and Mr. Franklin all seated at the kitchen table. 

"Hi," I said to no one in particular. I just wanted to break the tense silence. 

"Where've you been, Son?" Grandpa asked. "We've been waiting on you." 

"Nowhere, Sir." I bowed my head, ashamed to look at any of them. 

"Answer the question, Benton," Grandma ordered. 

"In the woods, Sir." 

"Hmm. Well, I'm afraid you're not out of them yet," Grandpa warned. 

I nodded and looked at Grandpa expectantly. 

"Is it true what Mr. Franklin tells us? Did you take all the market game from his shop?" 

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled. 

"Why did you do that?" 

"To make a statement, Sir." 

"I see. To state that you are a thief?" Grandpa was clearly irritated. 

"No, Sir," I whispered and shook my head. 

"Come over here, Benton," Grandpa directed me, and I obediently went to stand beside him. He turned around to face me, put his hand on my shoulder, and leaned close to whisper "Are you going to be a little more forthcoming with your answers, or do I have to take you into the other room and give you a persuasive taste of my belt?" It was extremely rare that Grandpa ever threatened to punish me, but since Dad wasn't home, I guess he felt the seriousness of my crime warranted his involvement. I figured a whipping was in the cards anyway, but I was in no hurry for it. 

"I'm trying, Sir," I answered as I tried to hold back tears. 

"You know what we want to hear. There should be no need for us to ask you any questions." 

I nodded and wiped a stray tear from my cheek. 

"What's the story, Ben?" Grandpa demanded. 

"We're destroying the Inuit culture, Grandpa." 

"Who is?" 

"We are. With the laws. You know, they used to all be able to hunt. Now the laws tell them who can hunt and what they have to do with their catch. It's not fair. They were here first." 

"Who put these ideas into your head?" 

"It's true, Sir. And it's not just the hunting. They're losing a lot of their traditions because we're moving here and changing things." 

"Yes, that may very well be. But laws aren't necessarily a bad thing, Ben. Your dad'll set you straight on that." 

"I know, Sir, but..." 

"But you thought it was necessary to break a law because the Inuit can't hunt the way they used to?" 

"Yes, Sir. It was a peaceful protest." 

"It was stealing, Son." 

I lowered my head and mumbled "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry." 

"We'll discuss this later, Ben. Right now, I think you owe an apology to Mr. Franklin." Grandpa turned me around to face Mr. Franklin. 

"I'm sorry, Sir." 

"Yes, well, I'd still like to know what you were planning to do with the animals before I foiled your plan. After you ran off, I found a can of gasoline lying nearby. Was that yours?" 

"Yes, Sir." Grandpa nudged me from behind and I knew I'd better just spill the beans. "Um, I was gonna set fire to them so you couldn't sell them," I admitted hesitantly. 

"Oh, my God!" Grandpa sighed under his breath. 

"Well, in that case, you'd better count your lucky stars that I stopped you before you got yourself in a bigger mess than you're in now!" Mr. Franklin said harshly. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Who put you up to this, Benton?" Grandma finally spoke up. I knew she'd been too quiet. 

"No one, Ma'am." Of course my lie wouldn't fool her; they never did. 

"You're telling me this was all your idea?" she asked, daring me to lie to her. 

"Uh, huh," I nodded, uncertainly. I figured this wasn't really a lie, since both of us knew I wasn't telling the truth. 

"This has something to do with that promise you made to someone, doesn't it? The promise you weren't sure you should keep?" I made no immediate response so she repeated loudly "Doesn't it, Benton?" 

I nodded and hung my head. 

"And how is Eric involved in all this?" 

"He's not, Ma'am," I asserted decisively. How did she know? I wondered to myself. 

"Ben, you're in enough trouble already. If I were you, I wouldn't compound it by lying. You made the promise to Eric, didn't you?" She was obviously not in the mood for my equivocations. 

I didn't look up. I just gave one slight nod of my head. 

"Who's Eric?" Mr. Franklin asked. 

"A boy in Ben's class. An Inuit. He's been bullying Ben. I suspect he either forced or tricked Ben into performing this deed for him. Perhaps just to get him in trouble." 

"No, Grandma. He wouldn't do that. He's my friend." 

"A friend wouldn't have attacked you with a dead animal!" 

"He wasn't my friend when he did that. He is now." 

"Then why isn't he here taking responsibility for this?" Grandma asked. 

"I told you. He didn't do it. I did." Grandma didn't appear to be too pleased with my tone of voice, which, I must admit, did at least border on insolence. Nor with my persistence in bending the truth, I imagine. 

"That's enough, Benton. Go to the study. Your grandpa and I need to have a few words with Mr. Franklin, and then we'll be right in." 

Well, that was that. No point delaying the inevitable any longer. Time to pay the piper. 

"Yes, Ma'am," I whispered, and I went to wait on death row. 

* * *

I stood up and crossed my hands behind my back when Grandma and Grandpa entered the room. Two against one. I didn't like the odds. Grandma sat against the edge of the desk facing me and Grandpa took a seat just behind me. I was surrounded as I stood there, looking as penitent as possible. 

"Hi." It was amazing how much that one little word from me softened Grandma's expression. 

"Hello, Ben," she answered calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was afoot. "Mr. Franklin has agreed not to press any charges against you, Benton. He's giving you the benefit of the doubt that nothing like this will ever happen again." Grandma paused, but I said nothing. "I would like an assurance from you that he won't regret this decision," she added very sternly. 

"No, Ma'am. He won't." I started to squirm as my stitches were itching, and I finally gave in and rubbed them. 

"Is your wound bothering you, Ben?" she asked softly. 

"No, Ma'am. Not really." I looked at her. "It's itching." 

"Ah, good. That's a good sign. Means it's healing. Try not to irritate it, okay?" 

"Okay, Ma'am," I answered and removed my hand from my chest. 

"Ben, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you keep your distance from this Eric. I realize you will have to see him in class, but outside of that..." 

"No, Grandma!" I pleaded. 

"No? Did you just say no to your grandmother?" Grandpa asked sharply. 

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you don't understand. I finally have a friend. A real friend, Grandma!" I cried in desperation. 

"Honey, believe me, I would be very pleased to know you have a friend. But judging by Eric's actions so far, I would be hard pressed to consider him your friend." 

"But you don't know him like I do. He really likes me, Grandma. He said I'm a man who would never let a friend down." 

"And that's very important to you, isn't it? To be a man?" 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"And do you think a man would persist in lying the way you have tonight?" 

"I don't know, Ma'am," I answered as I hung my head. I didn't dare deny that I had lied. But I also wasn't sure I had been wrong to do so in the circumstances. 

"Then perhaps you'd better give that some serious thought, hmm?" she said, and she just looked at me silently for a few seconds. 

"You mean now, Ma'am?" I asked. 

"I mean anytime you are tempted to repeat this behavior!" she stated emphatically. 

"Understood, Ma'am." 

"Good. Now, have you thought about how your father's going to react to this news?" 

"My father, Ma'am?" 

"Yes, your father. Remember him?" 

I looked at her and nodded and mumbled "Barely" under my breath. I could tell by the look on Grandma's face that she'd heard me. Her expression was that odd mix of "Yes, I understand why you said that, but don't you dare say it again!" 

"I don't see a need to bother him with this now, but the next time he's home, either you or I will have to report this incident to him." 

I began to rub my wound again, hoping the distraction would stop the tears that were filling my eyes. Grandma gently took my hand and placed it at my side. She then cradled my chin in the palm of her hand and lifted my face to look at her. 

"I dare say he'll be disappointed, but don't you think he'd much rather hear it from you, Ben?" she asked. 

I nodded as my lip began to quiver. I was afraid if I so much as breathed I'd be overcome by the emotion building inside me. Telling me that Dad would have to know about my crime was the worst punishment anyone could have inflicted on me. 

Grandma hung her head for several seconds, as I waited apprehensively and tried to bring my emotions under control. My eyes were so full of the tears I was refusing to spill onto my cheeks that she was a blur when she finally looked at me and spoke. "Tomorrow is Saturday. You are to spend the weekend in your room writing a ten-page essay explaining why you will never again steal so much as a box of candy." 

"Ten pages? I can't write ten whole pages about it!" Ah, blurting out this impassioned declaration was quite cathartic in my current bottled-up state. 

"If you don't finish it over the weekend, then you will go straight to your room after school every day until you have ten pages to show me." 

I stared at Grandma silently. I didn't dare defy her, but I had serious doubts that I was up to such an assignment. At least not without blithering repetitiously. 

"Don't you have something to say, Ben?" Grandpa urged me. 

"What if I can't do it, Grandma?" I wasn't disrespectful, just genuinely concerned. 

"I have complete confidence that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to, honey. I don't expect this to be easy for you. I want it to force you to think long and hard about your actions and why they were wrong. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied with respectful resignation. 

"Good. While you are busy doing that, I will attempt to become more acquainted with this so-called friend of yours. Then I will decide whether you may spend time with him." 

My heart gladdened considerably when I heard that, and I looked at Grandma with sincere gratitude. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you for giving Eric a chance." 

"You're welcome. Now, go to bed. It's very late and you have a lot of work to do tomorrow." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

As I gave Grandma a goodnight kiss she wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace and I hugged her just as tightly in return. I then went to Grandpa and offered a handshake. He took my hand and pulled me closer while turning me sideways and, with his free hand, he planted a sound smack on the seat of my pants. It was a warning which I read loud and clear. 

"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I promise I won't steal anything again as long as I live," I stated earnestly as we gripped each other's hands. 

"Good. I'll hold you to that, Son. Don't let me down." 

"I won't." Well, not without a damn good reason. Such as a friend in need. 

* * *

**THE END**

maryspen@aol.com 


End file.
